


Fundamentals of Weekly Cable Television

by baviereteam



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baviereteam/pseuds/baviereteam
Summary: Ian Duncan becomes well-known... or does he?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Fundamentals of Weekly Cable Television

INT. GREENDALE COMMUNITY COLLEGE, IAN DUNCAN'S OFFICE. 04/29/2014.

The door is open. Inside, Pr. Duncan is working, apparently grading papers, a glass of scotch set on the side of the desk. The pile of graded papers is smallish, in comparison to the pile of yet-to-grade one; it's definitely midterm season, and Duncan really dislikes midterm season. The sheer amount of exam topics to write, sessions to organize, papers to grade, grades to input in the computers, curve adjusting, and the meetings that go with all that, makes him feel dead inside more than a typical day in Scunthorpe, England feels dead outside. He wonders how in heck he became the head of the psychology department, but the memories are quite a few years away from him, and have slowly become amber-colored. He really, really wishes the Dean will consider allowing Teacher Assistants next semester - he's quite sure Britta would accept TA'ing for him, if only because of her ego.

His thoughts about the spicy blonde are quickly deflated, however, because two students that he doesn't even know are apparently playing hide-and-seek around his door - he can't see them, but he can hear their attemptedly-silent discussion:

STUDENT 1

You think it's him ?

STUDENT 2

It IS him. I swear to you, it is him.

STUDENT 1

How can you be so sure ?

STUDENT 2

Dude, just... look at his face !

Duncan looks at the open door, then mutters in his Queen's English:

DUNCAN

Hello ?

The two students immediately turn silent.

DUNCAN

Do you need to ask me about something ?

No sound is heard for a few seconds, as he looks straight at the door. Then, as his eyes wander back to his paper, he catches in the corner of his eyes one of the students' faces, discreetly poking at the door. Duncan immediately raises his head, looking straight at the student, with a face similar to the one Elizabeth II probably made the first time she met Nicolas Sarkozy. The student immediately breaks eye contact, and he hears him running away, indistinctly speaking to his friend. Ian shrugs, wondering what in tarnation was that, goes to close the door, and gets back to his grading.

INT. TEACHER'S LOUNGE, LUNCH TIME

Ever since Jeff joined the faculty, Duncan and him regularly have lunch together in the teacher's lounge. Ian, fed up by the amount of correcting he did the whole morning, wrist yelling for release, fights against the need for a power nap, when Professor Winger enters the room, smiling, his lunch tray at hand. He directly crosses the room, his walking light and calm, and sits in front of the Brit.

JEFF

Hey, Ian! Had a night date with Liverpool FC again ?

DUNCAN

Nope.

JEFF

You look like you're older than your Queen. 'Sup ?

DUNCAN

Midterms. All of them. When since are students interested in writing LONG papers ?

JEFF

Oh. Well, good luck.

Duncan smiles lightly at his friend. Jeff is definitely a lucky guy: this year, the midterms for his class are graded by his department head, meaning that he can use his free time to do whatever he wants, with activities that probably don't cause as much wrist cramps - or so he hopes.

He has to admit to himself, Jeff's mood has definitely lightened in the past year. Ever since he got around the jelly in his heart and got it in the sack with good ol' Miss Edison, Jeff's sometimes-pricky side has slowly shut down, leaving room for his more bubbly personality.

The psychology professor yawns, and his eyes leave the pudding in his plate to wander aimlessly, unless he figures Jeff is holding his phone in a weird way, in front of his face, as if he was trying to use it to block Ian's face from his sight. It doesn't last more than a few seconds, though, and as quickly as it appeared, Jeffrey's phone is back to his pocket.

DUNCAN

(raises an eyebrow)

He would ask about it, but he's tired, and honestly, he doesn't even want to have a discussion with Jeff - more talking means going back to grading later, which itself means going back home later, and midterm season doesn't really favors going home late if you plan to have some free time before going to bed.

Once the food is consumed, they politely part ways; Ian returns to his personal hell, leaving Jeff playing with his phone.

Jeff looks at the picture he took of Duncan, and sends it to Britta.

JEFF

(text message)

It really looks like him.

BRITTA

(text message)

Oh fuck, yes! What the fuck!

EXT. GREENDALE COMMUNITY COLLEGE PARKING LOT

Duncan sighed, throwing hastily all of the remaining papers into his bag, locking the drawer where his cherished bottle lived in, and left his office, still wondering what today had been all about. He feels like it's past midnight, but that's just the heavy grading talking: it's actually still early enough for students to hang in the parking lot. As he walks to his car, he can hear some of them, again:

STUDENT 3

Wait, is this... ?

STUDENT 4

I told you !

He gets to his car, unlocks it, throws his bag to the back, and gets in, eager to get home. As he drives away towards the parking lot exit, he sees a group of three students, who watch him intently as soon as one of them points at him. He can't hear them, but he can hear their comments nonetheless - similar to the ones he heard all day; he starts wondering what could have happened to make everybody look and point at him.

INT. DUNCAN'S NEIGHBORHOOD GROCERY STORE

The world is definitely wrong, he thinks, as he moves from aisle to aisle, filling his cart with bare necessities in more or less alcoholized forms. Even here, further from Greendale Community College, he still feels like people are looking at him - they're full-grown adults and live in the same neighborhood, so they're trying to be more discreet, but they're americans, so to him it still feels like if Elizabeth II was personally calling him to celebrate his birthday. He sets his mind to something else, in order to try and not care about it, while he packs his stuff after the register. Suddenly, the woman who was behind him in the queue, and who is currently waiting for the cashier to scan her groceries, adresses him:

MYSTERY WOMAN

I can't believe it's you! For real! I've always wondered... How is it to work with Jon Stewart ?

DUNCAN

(definitely wants to escape)

Um, it's... er, all right, you know? That Stewart fella? Pretty bloody nice, if you got me.

He hastily leaves, even more confused about it. What the heck was that? He only knows of one guy called Stewart, and that's the bloke who used to sell fish n'crisps by King's Cross station when he lived in London.

He transfers all he bought in his car, and quickly leaves, hoping to finish the day as soon as possible, probably with some liquid help.

INT. DUNCAN'S FLAT

It's past midnight, but sleep still won't come to Ian. He tried to drink enough to get to forced sleep, in limits to be able to still go to work the next day; he watched his Monty Python DVD again; he took a boiling warm shower; he overate shitty food (which, to be honest, includes all of american food, God save the Queen); he took a cold shower; to no avail. He feels a disturbance in the Force, or at least he would if that dude from Winger's study group who knows everything about every movie explained to him what the Force is.

DUNCAN

Dang!

INT. GREENDALE COMMUNITY COLLEGE, IAN DUNCAN'S OFFICE. 04/30/2014.

It is 10am, a time by which he would usually have some clarity, but, as Britta enters Duncan's office for their bi-weekly meeting, it is clear that today, he does not. The piles of to-grade and graded exams have merged into a tsunami of paper, the drawer bottle is already out, and Ian's eyes have bags bigger than Shirley's hand-held one under them.

BRITTA

Wow.

DUNCAN

Huh?

BRITTA

You seem... tired. Long evening? Yet I didn't see you at The Vatican. Hitting other places now?

DUNCAN

Har har. Not that it is your business in any way, but I was home way earlier than your shift even started. I am just a bit... under-the-weather.

BRITTA

I'd say more "under-the-required-hours-of-sleep-for-any-human-being", if your face is any indication.

DUNCAN

Wow, sarcastic much, are we today? Also, would you mind not yelling?

BRITTA

I'm not yelling, you're drunk. What's the fuss about?

Duncan sighs, faced with the perspective of opening up to his student - what is this new power dynamic now? -, but, in a moment of clarity - or of lack of sleep - he realizes that, as a student, his blonde comrade might be able to find out why every student in Greendale seems to see him in a totally different way all of a sudden.

DUNCAN

Listen. Everybody or so spent the day pointing and mumbling at me yesterday. I have no idea what in tarnation this is all about, and I do NOT feel good about it in the slightest, let me tell you.

BRITTA

(she laughs)

Wait, THAT's what's wrong?

DUNCAN

Yes, THAT's what's wr-Wait, what do you mean, "THAT"?

BRITTA

So you really don't know what this is about, huh? Ever turned on a TV recently?

DUNCAN

Nah, the telly, you know, it's not the same without the Beeb.

BRITTA

Well this explains that. Let me show you.

Britta takes Duncan's keyboard and navigates away to hbo.com, where she logs in with an account whose e-mail address suspiciously looks less like hers and more like Jeff's. She clicks a few menus and turns the computer to Duncan while some chirpy tune plays over a whitey background.

JOHN OLIVER

Welcome to Last Week Tonight! I am John Oliver, and welcome, welcome, welcome to whatever this is. Let's get started straight away...

The blonde closes the window, looking at Duncan, whose face looks like Microsoft Windows when it blue-screens.

DUNCAN

What the hack was that thing?

BRITTA

So, it turns out you have a perfect sosie, who's got the exact same accent than you, and does TV, and that's his first show which aired last sunday. Now you know.

DUNCAN

(shook)

I... huh?!!

BRITTA

Yeah.

DUNCAN

But... who's that Stewart dude though?

BRITTA

Oh boy, you REALLY have fifteen years of American TV to catch up with.


End file.
